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Yugi Ranks 50 SotF Characters Chosen By You
Rene Wolfe (v6) and Adonis Alba (v5)

Gran Torino.
There was another visible through the doorway. She didn't look like she was having an easy time of things, seeing as she was the source of the coughing fit he had just heard, but the gun in her hands gave Bart more than enough reason to be concerned for his own wellbeing as well as hers. He held his tongue out of caution, not wanting to say anything that could spur anyone to do anything regrettable. To further that goal, he focused on the question that had been directly asked of him, seeing as it was probably the quickest and easiest way to make himself more familiar and less of an unknown threat.

"I, uh... just got here, actually." He answered truthfully. 'It's been kind of a rough couple of days for me, and I'm trying to find some friends that I lost. I was, um..." He chewed on his bottom lip for a moment, trying to gauge their possible reactions before remembering how bad his social perception was and moving forward anyway. "I was kinda hoping that maybe you had seen them. Then I heard someone coughing and kinda freaked out, so I ran up here to see what was wrong."

He leaned over to get a better view through the doorway and pointed to the girl with the gun. "Are you sure you're okay, though? I've got some extra water if you need some."

Gran Torino.
((Bart Cappotelli continued from All Artists Talk to Their Creations))

Bart was still running off of the almost-definitely imaginary pep talk he had received from figments of his own imagination at the cliffside. However, finding the tire tracks leading away from the garage did quite a bit to test his newfound resolve. It didn't take a genius to put the pieces together. A car had departed from this garage, and a car had hit Jerry. Since there was only the one garage on the island, then it was pretty easy to assume that this was where the car that had nearly run him down originated from. Because of this, he was understandably shaky about heading inside. He stood outside the open door, catching his breath and preparing himself to face whatever may be inside.

He headed inside once he was good and ready, finding the garage to be filled with the vehicles and machines that one would expect, minus the obvious missing car. More interesting was the sight of someone ascending a metal staircase. He was not alone here. The other person was a girl, but she didn't look much like Clarice or Kizi. He couldn't tell who she was at all, actually. It was sort of hard to tell from a distance, though.

He walked over to the staircase, trying not to do anything to startle the other person in the room. By the time he got near the stairs, she had already made it to the top. He waited a few moments before placing a hand on the railing to step up. He hadn't spoken to anyone since the ill-fated confrontation in front of the gym, so he had to psyche himself up with hopes that this would end in a less terrible fashion. He took a breath and raised his hand, hoping to call up to the top floor and try to get a response.

Well, he would have called had he not heard a fit of violent coughing coming from the top of the stairs. Not even weighing the risks of the situation, he ran up the stairs, the loud impacts of his footfalls on the metal steps alerting everyone within earshot to his presence. He continued his charge until he saw the girl standing at an open door, staring at something inside.

"I-is everything okay?" Bart tried to sound confident, but his nerves had already kicked in, bringing the shakiness back to his voice.

All Artists Talk to Their Creations
((Bart Cappotelli continued from You thought it was Kimiko but it was me, Jerry!))

One week.

Bart Cappotelli had somehow survived on the island for one week.

It didn't make any logical sense. He was horribly out of shape. He had atrocious social skills. He got nervous whenever anything even slightly resembling a conflict occurred. He didn't even have a weapon. There were so many factors against him, and yet he was somehow still alive. The only thing he could attribute it to was luck. So many of his classmates had died in the meantime. Classmates who were stronger, faster, smarter, and more likable than him. Hell, he would even argue that they were better than him. But somehow, they had died while he had lived, at least for the time being.

Survival of the Fittest? Yeah, that was a joke of a title if there ever was one. If that's what this whole thing was a test of, then he would have been gone a long time ago. He had spent this whole time clinging to whoever would let him stick around and searching for them hopelessly once he lost them. And the few times that real trouble actually took place? He did nothing. Well, that's not actually true. He did do something. He ran away.

Nancy shooting Jennifer. The fire at the library. Jerry getting run over. All of those had happened right in front of him, and he couldn't do anything about any of them. Sure he wanted to help, but good intentions don't mean anything if they can't be used for anything, and the rest of Bart's body and mind held him back from making even the slightest difference.

He looked out over the cliffside. It was a beautiful view, one of the few luxuries he had been afforded over the past week. But he didn't deserve it. He didn't deserve to be the last one standing, not over anyone else. He was just a coward who couldn't do anything right. Maybe if he left his pack on the cliff and walked straight off, he would be doing someone better a favor.

"Hey."

He heard an unfamiliar voice and turned around to see the source. However, what he saw wasn't a schoolmate, or even a group of schoolmates. Rather, he saw a large selection of teenagers and adults. Each of them had a distinctive silhouette and wardrobe, making them instantly recognizable. He knew these people. He knew their names, faces, and everything about them. They had filled the pages of his sketchbook since freshman year.

But they shouldn't have been there. They were imaginary. They didn't exist. If they were here, then either he was dreaming, or it held some very unsettling implications about his level of sanity at the moment.

As though he sensed Bart's panic, the leader of the group, a black-haired boy in a green hoodie, spoke to him in the same voice that he had heard moments before.

"Don't give up."

The group gave him a field of kind smiles, and he was still completely lost. He closed his eyes and rubbed his head, wondering if he was starting to feel feverish. However, when he opened his eyes again, the crowd was gone. He was alone on the field once more, with no trace of anyone else's presence. It was the strangest experience that he could remember.

Bart wasn't entirely sure how he should feel about what he had just seen. For one thing, he knew that he needed to find some shade and sit down for a while. He could use some time out of the heat and a bit of hydration. He was pretty sure that hallucinations were a sign of heat stroke, and he didn't want to drop dead like that after coming so far.

However, just from that thought alone, he had realized something else: He didn't want to die. Yes, he was out of shape, socially inept, and cowardly. Yes, he had been little more than a desperate parasite up until that point. Yes, there were a lot of classmates that were more talented than him in various fields, both dead and living.

But there was one thing that Bart could hold on to, and that was his dream. Seeing his creations reminded him that he had something to live for. He still didn't want to kill, and he knew that making it out was still a long shot. However, he now had a sense of renewed vigor. Any thought she had of death were completely pushed away by a desire to stay alive.

He was still terrified, but he had something to live for, and that was enough to keep him going.

((Bart Cappotelli continued elsewhere...))

You thought it was Kimiko but it was me, Jerry!
Yeah, it was probably best if he got out of there as soon as possible. Bart had almost died, watched someone die, and been abandoned by another person. All of that in the span of around three minutes. Looks like he had walked right into yet another unenviable scenario. Somehow, it seemed that this island just had a knack for making things go as wrong as possible.

It was a small comfort that they let him keep some of Jerry's supplies. It felt wrong, no doubt about that, but he didn't have the time to waste dwelling on what his morality code had to say about graverobbing. Jerry didn't need his food or water anymore, and Bart did, so that answered the question then and there. Of course, not all of his supplies were in good condition, or even visible thanks to how they had been scattered around after the crash, but Bart managed to scrounge up a decent bit of rations, at least a day's worth in any case.

"Uh... bye." He waved to the group as he left the way he came, or at least his best guess as to which way that was. Once the coast was clear, he would get his map out and try to find a way to the others. He wasn't sure whether he would go back to the library, or maybe somewhere else they had touched upon, but he needed to find them.

And if that didn't work, then he would have to get used to being alone again.

((Bart Cappotelli continued in All Artists Talk to Their Creations))